“You might never make MVP, Joey, but you’re a good solid player,” Dad declared, patting my shoulder. “You were the most dependable Behemoth for three years in a row.”
“My son the Dependable Behemoth,” I mused, feeling happy as Dad leaned against me, grinning. I loved being with him when he was like this.Dad and I were a study in contrasts. He stood just five feet six inches tall, a portly middle-aged WASP with a bit of a pot belly.